


Economics of Kissing Booths

by implicated2



Category: Community
Genre: Episode Related, Humor, Kissing, Kissing Booths, Multi, commentfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/implicated2/pseuds/implicated2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the following prompt at the Community Kink Meme: <i>Three words: Greendale kissing booth. Four more words: At the STD Fair.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Economics of Kissing Booths

“Kisses, one dollar only!” calls Annie, smiling through the cut-out window of a cardboard box that's been painted red and propped up against one of the cafeteria tables. “Kissing can spread oral herpes, mononucleosis, the common cold, and _money for STD prevention_!”  
  
It's been a quiet night so far. Señor Chang gave her three dollars but didn't ask for a kiss. Vaughn looked her soulfully in the eyes and said that kissing was something you couldn't put a price on. Her first paying customer was Alex—she couldn't call him Star-Burns after they'd _kissed_ —and it was cool to run her fingers around the sharp, hairy edges of his stars, even if his tongue was kind of weird and bumpy. But that was almost half an hour ago, and Annie is starting to feel personally offended that more members of the Greendale community aren't stepping up to support STD prevention.  
  
“Have you considered that maybe talking about diseases isn't the best way to get people to kiss you?” Jeff sneers, striding over to the booth.  
  
“It's the STD fair, Jeff,” says Annie. “People need to know that kissing is dangerous.” She flashes him a winning smile. “One dollar only?”  
  
Jeff responds in his most patronizing tone. “I don't need to pay to get women to kiss me.”  
  
“Fine,” says Annie. “How about you pay to get Greendale's STD prevention program past the four-dollar mark?”  
  
“Sorry, Annie,” says Jeff. “But I gave all my cash to Pierce.”  
  
“To Pierce? Why?”  
  
“Trust me,” Jeff answers, “when I say that neither of us wants to know.”  
  
Annie gets more of an inkling than she wants when Pierce comes in with Doreen, the escort he's been bragging about dating. “How's business, Annie?”  
  
She shrugs. “How many condoms can you buy with four dollars?”  
  
Pierce leans forward. “You know, Annie. If you really wanted to make money, you could—”  
  
He is interrupted by Doreen stepping between them and holding a dollar toward the booth. Annie takes it, feeling a little shy at the prospect of kissing a professional. But it turns out not to matter: Doreen's kiss is hot and gentle, and her hand fits just so on Annie's cheek as her tongue explores and teases, and Annie is just beginning to process how much she likes it when Doreen breaks away, plants a little peck on her cheekbone, and says, with a wink, “That was worth every penny.”  
  
Over the next hour, she makes twenty-three dollars. One is from Leonard, the details of which she attempts to forget immediately. Twenty come from Professor Duncan, who hands her a bill and then shambles away, mumbling, “Keep the change.”  
  
Another one comes from Shirley, who glares at everyone's shocked looks when she leans in for her kiss. “I'm a Christian,” she sniffs. “Not a nun.”  
  
Finally there's Britta, only hers isn't really a kiss, because she keeps stopping to talk about how open-minded she's being and how brave it is of Annie to kiss women, and just when Annie has tentatively slipped her tongue between Britta's lips, she breaks away into some totally irrelevant monologue about sex trafficking, and the two people in line behind her give up waiting. Which is fine, because Annie really wasn't looking forward to kissing Dean Pelton, and she's not even sure she knows _how_ to kiss the Greendale Human Being.  
  
Biding her time, Annie counts her cash. Twenty-eight dollars, she supposes, is probably enough to prevent two or three STDs at least. She's feeling pleased with herself until she hears the announcement that the condoms are faulty. Back to square one, Annie thinks. Greendale's going to need a lot more than twenty-eight dollars to cover that.

A few minutes later, Troy and Abed show up in the cafeteria. They walk over to Annie's booth, hand her two dollars, and then proceed to have an argument over who should kiss her first.

“You're the best athlete at Greendale,” says Troy.

“You like kissing better,” says Abed. “Though, technically, maybe that means you should go second.”

“First is worst,” Troy says slowly, as if puzzling it out. “Second is best.”

Abed nods. “It's narrative convention. Whoever Annie kisses at the end of the night, that's the best kiss. If I kiss her after you, it's an anticlimax.”

“But what about you?” asks Troy. “If me and Annie are the climax, what happens to you?”

“Nothing,” says Abed. “The world falls away, and it's just you and Annie kissing. It's a zoomed-in shot. I'm outside of the frame.”

Troy looks stricken. “But I don't want the world to fall away. I don't want you to be outside of the frame.”

“Hmm,” says Abed.

“Guys?” says Annie. “How about you both kiss me? At the same time.” The second she says it, it sounds like the best idea ever, like having ice cream with both chocolate chips _and_ cookie dough. The kind of cookie dough with no raw eggs in it, because raw eggs can spread diseases, just like...

Troy and Abed look at each other. They look at Annie. Annie looks back at them. They look at each other again. Then, with a burst of something, they sing, “Troy and Abed kissing An-nie,” and lean in.

There's an awkward moment where no one can quite figure out what to do, and then they all just open their mouths and press them together. It isn't much like ice cream at all; it's more like there's this warm place where the three of them meet, and there are teeth and lips and tongues, and Annie tastes something she almost recognizes but can't put her finger on.

She's got one hand in Troy's hair and one on Abed's shoulder. Someone's tongue enters her mouth, and she licks at a lip. _Snack mix_ , she thinks, and Troy makes a little whimpering sound, and a noise comes from Abed that's somewhere between a squeak and a croon. The world does fall away, and Annie thinks fleetingly that this whole kissing booth thing has really paid off.

It's not that she wants things with Troy and Abed to go any further than this kiss, at least not now. But if she ever changes her mind, Annie suspects that twenty-eight—now thirty—dollars will probably buy enough protection to keep them covered for quite a while.


End file.
